The Ferryman's Bridge: A Short Story

The Ferryman’s Bridge

By Amy Moloney

Jolene Cheron has been driving for over 13 hours. The expanse of road seems to grow before her tired eyes. The radio has been stuck on the classic country station for the past hour, playing Patsy Cline songs back to back. I fall to pieces, each time I see you again... Jolene’s eyes grow heavy as she drives on.

Unaware of where exactly she is headed. She just awoke with an urge to get in her car and drive. She has been driving so long without a break that her backside is going numb. The darkness has settled around her creating the illusion of complete isolation. She has not seen a single headlight on the highway for a while. Jolene wonders how long she has to go before the feeling of urgency subsides. She still drives on.
...I go out walkin’ after midnight... Jolene starts to nod off. ...I stop to see a weeping willow... She jolts awake with a start, feeling the need to pull over.

A storm cloud rolls into view in the distance. She can see the faint glow of lightening illuminating the clouds against the darkened sky. A wall of heavy rain appears at the far end of her vision like a sea hovering in mid air. She slows the car knowing she is close to her destination. The moment she crosses the threshold into the rainstorm she sees the lights of emergency vehicles ahead. Dot’s of yellow clad officials are scurrying around with purpose.

Jolene pulls the car off to the side of the road just before a harsh looking stone and steel bridge. The bridge stands out against the natural landscape like a Gothic castle against a meadow of sunflowers. It has the aura of a medieval torture device. Jolene’s stomach drops to her knees when she realizes that this monstrosity is her destination.

The police and emergency cars are surrounding the entrance to the bridge. There are men and women pacing between vehicles wearing raincoats writing on soggy pads of paper. There is a gurney being wheeled into a car marked Coroner. It is reminiscent of a scene out of a horror movie. Jolene isn’t sure of how much of this is real. The weariness is saturating her reality with a dream-like haze. Somehow Jolene senses the bridge is satisfied with the events unfolding, an echo of laughter fills her mind. Jolene remains in her car watching the chaos, remembering a story her grandmother told her often.

“Long ago, on the Bluemoon River the ferryman would carry travelers across the water. There was a ribbon of rough water that ran down the middle of the river, notorious for claiming the lives of the unprepared. The ferryman, wanting to keep his travelers safe decided to find out why people disappeared. He discovered the ribbon in the middle of the river had a gateway connecting this world to another world. On the other side of this portal there was a rabid looking old man with three dog-like heads who had an insatiable appetite for fresh meat. The rift hovered just over the surface of the water, trapping all who attempted to cross. The ferryman asked the old man if he could make a deal. The old man agreed. The ferryman made a daily offering of animal flesh to the three headed man in exchange for the safe passage of anyone aboard his ferry boat. The ferryman never missed a day of offering in 50 years. Then when the ferryman was too old to carry passengers across the river, the city built a bridge. No one has made an offering since.”

The moment Jolene remembered her grandmothers story she knew this was the river and the bridge where the ferryman carted people safely from one side to another. In fact, it was at that point in time she noticed a large sign next to the bridge that read:

‘Ferryman’s Bridge, Built 1952’.

Jolene sat in her car and wondered what it was about this bridge that called her to it from hundreds of miles away. She was lost in that thought when she heard a tapping on her window. It was a police officer. A rather handsome police officer.

“Ma’am, You are going to need to turn around and go back. The bridge will be closed until the storm passes.” He said in his official voice. Then he leaned down into the window and said in a more gentle voice, “You aren’t from the area, are you?”

Jolene just nodded, still a bit dazed and a lot exhausted from driving. The bridge was still whispering words in her head that she couldn't translate into usable language. She tried to remain calm in the presence of the officer. Unfortunately, she was unable to compose herself. Jolene began to sob, loudly.

Officer Henry Kerebrus found himself saying something out of character, “Ma’am, just stay here. I’ll be back to give you directions into town.” And he walked back to the bridge where three other officers were waiting.

After about ten minutes of waiting, crying, and dread, Jolene stepped out of her car into the downpour. She walked toward the bridge feeling the rain soak through to her bones. The dread grew to an electrical current of fear through her veins. She could not stop herself. Jolene was compelled closer by the bridge itself, or was it the bridge? She wondered as she moved within feet of the stone where the pull was actually coming from.

As she touched the cold wet rock she felt a hand on her shoulder. Startled out of her trance, she turned to find Officer Henry looking at her with curiosity. She expected him to be angry or issue her a ticket for not waiting in the car. But instead, he just looked at her. Then he looked at the river. That was the first time since arriving at the bridge that Jolene actually looked toward the river itself. There was a blue light running the length of the river in the center of the water, it ran right through the center of the bridge. It was as if someone had lit the mist on fire with blue flame. She looked back at Officer Henry to see if she was imagining the light or if everyone sees it.

“Only you and I see it. If that’s what you are wondering.” Henry was trying to hide her from sight of the other officers as the crime scene was released. He was nervous, but anxious to talk to her. To talk to her alone.

Jolene was stunned, yet somehow relieved. She sensed that Henry was trying to protect her from something, or someone. So she walked back to her car and waited.

The rain refused to let up or even slow its constant assault on the land. The river looked swollen and angry. The water was churning violently under the bridge where an ethereal blue light lingered. Jolene watched the river, trying to recollect why she had jumped into her car this morning and started driving aimlessly. She was becoming more fearful of this journey she found herself on. Something was going to happen. And it was going to happen soon.

Henry knocked on the passenger window then opened the passenger door and sat down in Jolene’s car. He removed his plastic covered cap from his head and held it in his hands for a full two minutes before he started to speak.

“I know who you are. I don’t know your name. But I know why you came.” Henry was speaking into his hat. He could not look at the woman again without feelings of empathy engulfing him. She was effecting his usual calm. His grandfather told him the story of Ferryman’s Bridge. But until tonight he thought it was all a fairy tale to explain the high number of deaths associated with the bridge.

Jolene looked at him with disbelief. “How could you know that. I don’t even know why I am here. I don’t understand any of this. Who am I? Who are you? And what the hell is happening on that bridge?” Jolene was starting to sound a little frantic. The line between reality and unreasonable had been crossed inside her head and she was going to have a full out panic attack if she had to endure one more moment without explanation.

“Let’s start over. My name is Henry. Henry Kerebrus. My family has lived here in Sahani Hollow for generations. My great great grandmother knew your great great grandfather. You are a descendant of the Cheron’s. The ferryman, himself.” Henry was trying to sound soothing as he spoke. He sensed she was feeling like a trapped wild animal. He didn’t want to spook her too terribly much.

“I am Jolene. Jolene Cheron. How did you know my family name? How could you know anything about me? And what do you mean I am the granddaughter of the ferryman. You mean that story my grandmother told me was true? There really was a three headed old man taking people from the river?” Jolene’s voice was calmer, but the tide of rage and terror was rising inside of her. She couldn’t look over at Henry. He was too much for her to handle, she needed to focus on the river, the blue light, the ferry story. Not the police officer sitting in her car. “Tell me more. I need to know what is drawing me here, to this place.”

“Where are you from, Jolene?” Henry was curious about what had brought this frightened little woman here. She seemed so overwhelmed and unsure of what was happening to her. His instincts were to draw her close and comfort her. To make her feel safe. But he knew he could not do this. Whatever was happening to him was obviously happening to her.

They both sat silently for a short time. Jolene broke the silence, “I woke up this morning with the need to get in my car and drive. I couldn’t control it. The urgency was so real, so powerful. I had no idea where I was going. When I drove into the rain and saw the bridge I knew I had arrived at my destination. I just have no idea why. Why today? Why me?”

“My grandmother told me the story of the ferryman. She never told me it had been her father. She alluded to it, but never said it. I knew our family came from a state in the south, but she never told me where. It was as if she was protecting me from something she wasn’t telling me. You know?”

Henry inhaled sharply. The story sounded familiar. His grandfather did the same. “Yes, I know. We have much in common. How much do you really know about the ferryman? I know the legend as it was told to me. But tonight, I feel as if new knowledge has just appeared in my head. I cannot unlearn it. It scares me a little.”

Somewhere within the subtext of what Henry spoke Jolene caught the story that had been trying to tell itself inside her mind.

After the ferryman died, a plan to build a bridge connecting Sahani Hollow to Red Moon Falls was put into place. Architects were consulted, engineers hired, contractors contracted. The bridge was to be functional and sturdy. No longer did he city have to endure the ferryman’s constant interference with the progress of man. Both cities had governments that were wanting to bring the area into the future. It was the beginning of the 20th century, progress was happening everywhere. Sahani Hollow and Red Moon Falls did not want to be left behind. The bridge was built. It took two years to complete. There were some issues with connecting the bridge in the center of the river. But after long hours, a few deaths, and modern building techniques the bridge was finished. In 1950 the bridge collapsed for unexplained reasons. It still remains a mystery as to why the original bridge fell. The new bridge was built stronger. It was completed in 1952. They named it The Ferryman’s Bridge for the legend that has passed down over the years. The bridge was world famous for being a hot spot for unexplained deaths and odd occurrences. To this day, paranormal researchers frequent the bridge amassing charts and data that only they understand. Tonight is the anniversary of when the ferryman died. It has been 100 years and the decedents of the ferryman and the three headed old man have returned to the river.

The part of the story never told to anyone was that there was a second part to the deal struck between the old man and the ferryman. The three headed old man was in love with a woman in the village who would come and wash her clothes in the river. The old man asked the ferryman to bring her to him and in return he would keep the rift safe from his even more ravenous kinfolk for 100 years after the ferryman’s death. The ferryman brought the woman to the old man, and the against the woman’s will the old man impregnated her with a child. She eventually grew to love the old man, but never revealed to her friends, family, and neighbors who the father of her child was. Both her and the ferryman took that knowledge to their graves. The old man grew to love the ferryman as a brother. He protected the rift as promised. His actual brother eventually found out.

Henry and Jolene got out to the car to walk toward the bridge. They knew something was going to happen. The blue light had grown larger. The wind and rain beat down harder than ever as they made their way onto the slick surface of the bridge. Neither one could deny the supernatural call summoning them to the center.

A few short feet from the center of the bridge, Jolene saw into the rift. The other world was trying to escape into this world. There was a man in a red robe holding a sword high above his head chanting into the rift from the other side. He had a dog’s face. Jolene reached for Henry instinctively. He held her hand and signaled for her to stop moving forward.

Behind the dog faced man, were ghostlike men carrying crude weapons made from wood and stone. They had a hungry look in their eyes. All of the ghost-men stayed behind the dog faced man. They lunged eagerly as he chanted on. The blue light began to flicker like a strobe. It was then that both Henry and Jolene knew their mission. They needed to stop the other world from bleeding through. These were blood-thirsty, restless spirits men.

Dog faced man flinched slightly when a three headed old man said something to him. The three headed man seemed angry. The ghost-men were restraining him. He struggled as best he could, but it was obvious that age and disease were working against him as well. The old man looked frail and beaten, with bruises, boils, and scabs covering his body. He was hideous to look at, but Jolene couldn’t look away. There was kindness and apology in his eyes. He looked directly at Henry and mouthed the words “use the key” to him.

“What is the key?” Jolene asked Henry

“I don’t know. I don’t have a key.” Henry was dumbfounded by actually seeing his great great grandfather. And was angry at seeing him tortured so. His hands clenched into fists, ready to fight for his family.

The bridge began to shake. Jolene lost her balance and fell backwards. As she lay on the ground she looked to her left and saw a stone pushing itself out of the wall. The stone was shaped like a key. The stone was inside the blue light zone, at the very bottom of the center stone wall. It was jutting out just enough to see that it wasn’t part of the wall itself. The stone was darker in color, a reddish brown, and looked as if it had been pried from the wall. It was too far away from Jolene to reach it without being noticed by the dog faced man and his minions of ghost men.

“Henry! I think I know what the key is.” She said as he reached down to help her back to her feet. Her excitement put a rosy glow on his cheeks, which he tried to hide with a masculine noise that sounded rather cavemanish.

“Oh? Uhhh.” Was all he could get out without his voice cracking.

She looked toward the stone and his gaze followed hers. They nodded to each other, silently synchronizing their minds.

The next moments seemed to fade in and out of reality for the two. The blue light brightened and and ice cold wind came rushing toward them from the rift. The dog faced man was becoming more animated and his hand was protruding from the light. Time and space seemed to wobble and sway around them. Jolene was becoming nauseous from the sensation. She reached for Henry’s hand to ground her. He was the only thing that felt real at that moment.

The three headed old man looked right into Henry, and Henry felt him enter his mind. It was not subtle. The invasion was painful. But the message was clear and direct.

The oath that the ferryman and the old man made was a blood oath. The contract was made in blood on a stone altar from the old man’s world. A sacred and powerful altar. The stone was given to the ferryman and was always present on his ferry as a signal to any who sensed the rift. When the bridge was first built, the stone was not included in it’s construction. The second bridge also excluded it. The ferryman’s granddaughter made a point in her young life to place the stone on the bridge. Now the contract is about to expire. A new contract must be made.

Henry looked at Jolene knowing that was what brought her here. She was to sign the new contract. As long as the three headed man lived, he could grant power to his great grandson to be his blood proxy in the contract.

Henry removed his pocket knife and opened it with a quick smooth motion. Jolene just looked at him in stunned silence. Henry reached for the key stone with a speed of a superhero. He placed the stone in Jolene’s trembling hands. Then, without words cut his hand open and Jolene’s hand. They both placed their palms on the stone. The bridge vibrated beneath their feet. The blue light strobed again. The dog face man looked horrified.

At that moment Henry recited the words that the old man put in his mind. “I honor this contract between our worlds. I give my word and my blood to protect this barior from invaders from this world or others. This rift shall from this day, close forever and never reopen. My blood is my oath. My oath is unbreakable.”

Jolene then said from instinct, “I honor this contract between our worlds. I give my word and my blood to protect this world. I accept your offer to protect my world from yours. I also give my blood to close this rift from this day to forever. Never shall it reopen. My blood is my oath. My oath is unbreakable.”

Hot and cold energy came at them at once. A wave of anger followed. The blue light glowed red hot, then white. And with an audible popping noise, the rift disappeared from existence. The storm ceased and the sun began to rise.

Jolene and Henry stood in the center of the bridge soaked and shaking. They wrapped their hands in pieces of cloth torn from Henry’s handkerchief. They just stood there and allowed the sunrise to envelope them in it’s majesty, eyes closed.

Henry moved first. His hand moving to settle on Jolene’s lower back. He pulled her close with the intention to just hold her. But Jolene reached her hand  to his jaw and pulled his mouth to hers. They kissed. Long, deep, and honest, they kissed.

Jolene was lost in the moment, enjoying the embrace. It was perfect for all of about 30 seconds. She tried to pull away from Henry. But her mouth was fused to his. She stood there immobilized, terrified. Henry unbuttoned his shirt to reveal the rift that had disappeared from the river reappeared in the center of his chest. A swirling, pulsating opening where his heart should be. Henry pulled Jolene closer, finishing the blood oath. Jolene was devoured instantly by the three headed old man.

Henry buttoned up his shirt, got into his police car, and drove back into town a changed man.